Labyrinth
by sayxanything
Summary: Joan stares out her old bedroom window at the first rainfall of summer and wonders when she lost Luke, Adam, and Grace.
1. Prologue

**Labyrinth**

**A/N: **First fic I will update regularly as a series, so go easy on me.

**Disclaimer:** I am but a simple person at a keyboard. Nothing is mine.

This first chapter will be very short because it's the prologue. The upcoming chapters will be long.

* * *

Going back to Arcadia was like trying to relive a past life.

It was weird, feeling strange and uncomfortable in her own hometown, like she'd been living on another planet for the past four years or something. A planet she'd heard about a million times, but never even dreamed of visiting. A planet of colleges and room mates and missed phone calls. Meanwhile, Arcadia was still earth, with everything she thought she'd somehow escaped.

She couldn't really remember when exactly she'd began to feel so alienated. Was it really just that simple? Could you really walk out your front door one morning and manage to remove eighteen years of your life?

North Carolina and Maryland aren't that far apart, she reminded herself.

She racked her brain for something that would clear the tangled web of thoughts in her mind. Like, what if another planet exactly like Earth was discovered and she moved there? Would it really be all that different? Then again, if it was exactly like Earth, how would she know she was there? And if she never really knew if she was there, would she ever be able to get home?

This is when Luke would interrupt and tell her that they'd never find another planet exactly like Earth in their own galaxy, if she still had Luke, anyway.

She analyzed it the best she could, just so she'd be able to fall asleep.

Her life.

Wake up, cook, eat, work, class, class, class, eat, study, sleep.

After June, she realized she was down to: wake up, cook, eat, work, eat, sleep.

It didn't seem like much of a life to her. She didn't like it.

If she had learned one thing at college, though, it was that life is never what you think it is. You have everything but you're empty handed. You have nothing but everything you need is at your feet. You're in the light, but you're really in the dark. You're blind but you don't even really need to see. Diplomas, essays, cars, goals, dreams: none of it matters. Looking at the big picture, things that small aren't even really there; you could be holding them in your hands, but you don't really have them. What _do_ you have? You have pain and you have happiness, and all that matters is you know where those two thingscame from.

Joan stares outside her old bedroom window at the first rainfall of summer and wonders when she lost Luke, Adam, and Grace.


	2. Locked Closets

**Disclaimer:** don't own, don't sue. Thank you.

**A/N:** THANK YOU all you reviewers! Keep it up I love hearing from you guys. Feel free to leave suggestions too. Ceil and Tiff…I UPDATED!

* * *

Joan didn't really know why she had gotten on the train. She didn't know why she had called Luke either.

She was confused, she had been since graduation. She been preparing for college graduation her entire life, and as much as she loved finally achieving a goal, she couldn't help but feel like she'd thrown herself into a world of independence and roommates and dorms that she'd never be able to stay in. She had adjusted and made friends, but now she had been catapulted out of that world and had landed in a completely different place, one she had been in before. Arcadia. Although she could never remember too many things from her high school years in college, now she could almost hear farmiliar voices telling the story of her memories as she flailed further and further into her past.

"_I'm not going to loose you, for any reason. Do you understand?"_ Her father had told her as she shook, terrified and soaking wet, on the night she'd nearly been abducted.

She flinched. It hurt to much to remember her father's voice. She tried to stop thinking and just stared out the train window instead, waiting to see the red and green lights of the New Jersey Penn station that would confirm her arrival.

But her mind had never really listened to the rest of her anyway.

"_What's changed since then? Huh? Joan, what's changed?"_ Kevin asked her, back when he was still stuck in the pit of anger and self pity he'd been pushed into by the accident.

That stupid piano song on her teacher's record that Joan had listened to with Adam in tenth grade played off in her head. How she remembered every note, she didn't know.

"_Look around you. I talk to angels."_ Adam had told her the first time she visited his shed.

"_There are no easy answers in here."_ Grace had said at her Bat Mitzvah as Joan sat in the crowd of people watching her, suddenly understanding too many things at once.

Joan closed her eyes as tears rolled down her cheeks.

"_The thing about Joan is... no matter how many idiot projects she does or how much she drives you crazy, she actually sticks around."_ Judith had said on the tape that Adam had let Joan watch a month after Judith died.

"_You know, I've structured my whole life to be risk-free, never allowing for a situation where I might fail."_ Luke told her as he opened his eyes to his own lifestyle.

"_You just have to understand. Whatever it is... if we don't go through it together... I don't want to lose you."_ Her mother had said through resistant cries, desperate to understand.

But then she thought of the variable in her life that had tainted everything with unwelcome maturity. She thought of all the stupid things it had made her do and the way she was glad she did most of them. She thought of her first summer in Arcadia when it'd given her her first real test of faith.

"_Learn to see in the dark."_

She didn't move as the train jostled under her, the lights shining through her window and onto her face red, then green, then red again.

* * *

The exact moment that Grace hit the wall and sunk to the ground of her New York City apartment, Adam stuck a "OPEN ON SUNDAYS IN NEW JERSEY! COME TO K-MART!" sticker onto the stores main entrance, shoved his hands in his red polyester work vest and wondered what the hell he was doing.

He pulled the door open and walked back inside. He adjusted his head set, the way he'd been taught, and greeted a pimply faced teenager at the register across from his. He stood behind the register and paused, thinking, hoping to find an answer speeding through his mind.

Grace didn't move from her spot on the floor, even after the door slammed and she was left alone. She wasn't thinking about anything really. She'd gone numb after the last year, but not numb enough. She closed her eyes and wished to wake up from the nightmare she knew she was in.

Joan glanced at the paper in her hand, reading the messy handwriting scribbled on it, before she pulled the heavy glass door open and walked in.

Her eyes froze on a man standing at a register, dark hair, exactly the same as she remembered him.

"Adam?" She asked, disbelieving, after a quick look around.

Adam's head snapped up from the register and he suddenly felt lightheaded. "Jane?"

"Adam!" She ran towards him, smiling and wrapped her arms around his neck. He returned her embrace gratefully, laughing.

"What are you doing here?" He asked after pulling away, still smiling, still completely in shock.

He looked her over as she spoke. Her hair was different, it was a little shorter and cut in angles and layers that framed her face.

"Oh, well, after graduation I went home to finally see everyone again and when I stopped by your house your dad said you had moved here and told me where you worked and everything."

Adam looked down, slightly shameful. "Yeah…Well, here's…where I work."

Joan frowned. "What happened to art?"

"Oh, I'm still doing that stuff." He told her quickly, looking back up to glance at her. "I sold some stuff but not a lot, really. Not enough to really make enough money."

"Oh."

"Yeah." Adam paused. "Are you moving here?"

Joan thought for a second. "You know, I don't know. I have to move somewhere, but I was thinking New York City." Her eyes lit up. "What do you think?"

Adam's expression changed to grave. "Grace lives in New York."

"I know."

"You know?"

"Yeah", She told him absently "I wanna get in touch with her, I haven't seen her in…Oh, man, I don't even know…"

"Five years."

Joan stopped at the seriousness in Adam's voice. She cleared her throat and said quietly, "Yeah. Yeah, I know."

Adam and Joan both wondered if silence could actually ring.

"You went back to your parents house?"

Joan stared at him, her brown eyes intense enough to burn a hole in something. Adam frowned. She looked sad.

"Yeah." She said, nodding slowly. Then she looked down at her hands resting on the end on the counter, furrowing her eyebrows for a millisecond before erasing all expression from her face. "Only for a couple days, and then, um, I came here."

"Jane, it's great seeing you and everything but…why are you here?"

She inhaled deeply, appearing to be picking her next words carefully.

"I called Luke and, well, he was pissed", she said with a halfhearted laugh "And, I guess…some of the things he said made me think. I miss you guys. I wanted to see you."

Adam scanned a few items for an old looking man, who was fumbling with his wallet for his credit card. Adam didn't look up as he spoke.

"So, you're going to see Grace next?"

"Yeah." She paused for what seemed like forever. "Would you come with me?"

Adam looked up at her suddenly, unsure of what she had just asked.

"I…sorry-what?"

"Come with me? To New York?" She repeated.

Adam took the old mans credit card and swiped it through the computer.

"Jane…I don't…I can't just leave."

"Why not?" She nearly whined. Adam handed the card back and began bagging the items.

"I don't have a lot of money."

"Neither do I." She laughed.

"I don't have anywhere to stay in New York."

"We'll go to Grace's, she'll help us out."

"I have a job." he reasoned.

"Adam." She said seriously, causing him to freeze and look up at her. She then added bluntly, "You work at K-Mart."

He gave her a look of annoyance before handing the old man his plastic bag and purchased items.

"Look, Jane, you go, okay? Have fun, tell me how Grace is, and maybe I'll come up another time."

Joan's face fell. "Okay. I'll…" She looked around aimlessly before heading for the door. "…See you around then."

And just like that, Joan Girardi had made up for all of the missing five years.


	3. If Shame Had A Face

**Disclaimer: **AHH I DON'T OWN JOAN OF ARCADIA AHH

**A/N:** Thanks to **H.J. Glory**, **Tiff**, **Kool-Wolf**, **Annieca**, **TJ-TeeJay**, and **Bonny** for reveiwing! I love hearing from you people. Suggestionss? What do you people wanna see?

Chapter title is from "Sick Cycle Carousel" by Lifehouse (thank you Ceil heh)

* * *

"Grace, open the door." 

"Why are you even here?"

Joan slammed her hand onto Grace's apartment door, exhausted from knocking. It was surprising how separate you could feel from someone with just a door between you.

"Come on, I came here from Maryland, the least you could do is let me in?"

Joan regretted the words the instant they had come out of her mouth.

She could hear Grace fumble with the lock on her door before pulling it open in such a swift motion that Grace's hair flew back from her face.

Joan swallowed hard. She didn't really expect to see Grace. She absently noticed that Grace looked different, her hair a little shorter then the last time Joan saw her. During their senior year, Grace had grown it out a bit, until it had poured over her shoulders. Now it hung limply at her jaw line.

"'The least I could do?' What, do I owe you that or something?"

Joan stopped thinking, breathing, processing what she was seeing and hearing. She didn't know how to deal with this anymore.

Grace stared at her blankly. "Did you expect me to welcome you with open arms? Because it really doesn't work that way, especially with me, Girardi."

Joan blinked. She had worked out a hundred different things to say to Grace on the way to New York but it seemed like she couldn't remember one. She closed her eyes briefly and tilted her head downwards, trying to force a smile through her crumbling expression. "Uh…" She breathed before shoving her hands in the pockets of her blue pull over, letting out a tiny, forced laugh.

"I wish…I knew how to explain this to you."

"Joan…" Grace said quietly. "Why are you here?"

Joan looked up and realized how small Grace was. She was much thinner, Joan could see that, even though Grace had buried herself in long pants and a heavy sweaterdespite it being June.

"I wanted to see how you were doing."

Grace looked around her apartment, fully furnished, but appearing empty and dark to her, missing something but holding too many other things. This place meant nothing to her.

* * *

Over two-hundred miles away, Luke sat at a bus stop, alone, in the dark. Cars sped passed him, street lights glared down on the damp, dirty sidewalk, people walked by, lost in their own worlds of ex-girlfriends and missing sisters and failed plans. He missed his bus an hour ago. He ran his hands through his hair and looked up at the sky. 

_The stars are bright tonight,_ Adam thought, causing him to look down at the pavement below him. He dropped his cigarette on the curb he was sitting on and stomped it out. The suburban streets of New Jersey were unusually quiet. It gave Adam too much room to think.

* * *

"You wanted to see how I was doing…after five years?" 

"Grace", Joan stepped forward, surprising Grace and backing them into the apartment. She closed the door behind her, keeping things quick and fluid so Grace wouldn't have time to protest. "I screwed up. I know I did."

The two of them stared at each other, meeting eyes for the first time as women instead of teenage girls. Both of them held a constant, solid look in their eyes, permanently replacing the ever-changing gazes they owned when they were younger, the ones that adjusted to how far they had chosen to open their eyes to the world. There wasn't much either of them hadn't seen anymore.

"I don't…" Joan fumbled "I don't know what else to say. I'm sorry."

"You're the last person I thought would run away like that."

"What?"

"Girardi, what were you doing? You're so freakin' stubborn and loyal that it really makes me wonder what your motive was." Grace crossed the room to a small kitchen area and opened the refrigerator, blocking her from Joan's sight.

"I just-Grace, I went to college!"

"No." Grace closed the refrigerator door and leaned against it, soda can in hand. "Not right after graduation. Didn't you wait a year?"

Joan nodded slightly, hoping Grace had somehow missed it.

"Where did you go? Where the hell did you go at eighteen years old with no money or job? Did you really want to hurt your family that bad?"

Grace and Joan could practically feel the tension hanging in the air between them, murky and thick, like they could reach out and touch it. It was Grace who broke the silence.

"I don't get it, Joan." She said quietly. "What were you running from?"

Joan didn't answer.

"Joan!"

"What!" Joan's head snapped up. "You did the same thing! You haven't seen Luke since graduation!"

"He's not my brother!" Grace fumed.

"Who said I was running from something, anyway!" Joan practically yelled. "Where the hell do you get so much insight!"

"You wouldn't have left for no reason." Grace put her soda down on the counter by her kitchen sink. "I knew you. I don't know if I still do, but, for the most part, I did."

"You still know me." Joan said feebly.

* * *

Luke walked. He didn't know where he was going. He just concentrated on his sneakers thumping down on the pavement, each time harder to pick back up. He felt like he had weights tied on his ankles.

* * *

Grace sighed and turned back to the counter, taking a sip of her soda and reaching out to thumb through the mail the way she had three hours earlier. "What time is it?" 

Joan glanced at her watch. "10:45."

"Did you come to New York just to see me?"

Joan paused and considered lying, but reminded herself that no one needed to hear any more lies from her, especially Grace.

"Yeah, pretty much."

Grace surprised herself and Joan when she turned the corner and walked into her bedroom, pointing to a hall closet on the way. "There's a sleeping bag in there. Set it up on the kitchen table if you want, I really don't care."

* * *

Adam laid his head back on the mattress he'd tossed on the floor of his small apartment and tried to evaluate the blur of days running through his mind. 

Wednesday, he sold a sculpture and went to work. Thursday, he went to work. Friday, he went to work and he saw Joan. Saturday, he went to work.

After college, he built himself a completely new life, totally separate from his old one. Soon his old life became so removed and alien that New Jersey and Maryland seemed to be two different worlds. He still went back home sometimes, to see his dad, and he went and saw Grace every once in a while, invading their new found worlds. No one had ever invaded his, before Joan. She had punched a hole in the dam between his childhood and his adult life, permitting them to crash together and mix and leave no possibility of ever separating again.

_It's raining a lot lately_, he thought. He reached up and opened his window, giving him the sound of fat rain drops shattering on the pavement to concentrate on as he succumbed to everything he thought he had control of.

* * *

Joan looked up from her spot on the floor as she curled up in the sleeping bag, making out the outline of Grace's back in the dark. 

"Grace?" Joan nearly whispered.

"Yeah?" Grace asked just as quietly from her bed.

"I really am sorry. For everybody." Joan told her tearfully, sounding small and helpless.

There was such a long pause that Joan thought Grace had fallen asleep.

"I know."

Even though Joan had never been a huge fan of Grace and Luke dating, after they'd broken up during their last week of school she knew they both changed and she didn't like it. They had forced themselves back into the familiar mold of the lonely, secretive kid, like they never even knew each other.

Joan contemplated asking her next question, but finally just blurted it out. "Who do you live with?"

She could almost hear Grace flinch. "My boyfriend."

Joan had been expecting it, but her heart stopped momentarily for her brother anyway.

"Where is he?"

"He's working until tomorrow night." Grace lied easily.

"You meet him at college?" Joan asked, growing more and more awake with every question.

"Yeah."

"What's his name?"

"Goodnight, Joan."

"I just want to know about him." Joan whined, like they'd never been apart.

"I just want to know why you left."

Joan stopped short. Then she rolled over in the sleeping bag.

"Right. Goodnight."

Joan stared at the ceiling. She would have to explain to Grace and Adam and her family sometime. She didn't know how to express that running from her life was the only way to run from God.

* * *

**_NOTE: For those of you who want to be lame and join in cheesy fun goodness known as RPing our own season three-ish, go to H.J. Glory's info page and email her! Yes we know it's lame, but dude you know it's fun! We're setup on greatest journal.H.J. Glory will supply you with a link to check it out if you're interested in being lame too! (Lame is COOL)_**


	4. Going Down Swinging

**Disclaimer:** Oh, come on, you know the truth.

**A/N:** Sorry if this chapter sucks guys. EXTREMELY busy lately and i wanted to give you guys and update so...im sorry if you don't like it. :( Once again-thanks to my reveiwers! keep it up you guys. Please. heh.

* * *

A single bedside lamp lit up Luke's entire bedroom.

Luke climbed out of bed and slumped over to his desk in the far right corner of the room, grabbing his glasses on the way. He sat down on the chair there, turning away from his clock. It must have been around four in the morning, because Luke figured he couldn't have been staring at his ceiling longer then three hours. He barley moved his head to put his glasses on and look at the digital clock on the wood surface before him.

_Five o'clock in the freakin' morning._

He hadn't even tried to fall asleep. Not really, anyway.

Luke grabbed his computer mouse and jiggled it madly, causing the computer screen to shine brightly. He clicked a few links mindlessly and nearly jumped out of his chair when his speakers blared "YOU'VE GOT MAIL!"

Stupidly, he slammed his hand over the computer speaker, then, after realizing what his first reaction had been, quickly turned down the volume.

He sat completely still for a moment, hand still on the volume dial, his eyes staring at nothing while his ears strained for noises.

He shamefully sat back in his chair when he heard someone moving outside his closed door. The knob turned and the door opened.

"Man, do you sleep anymore?" Trey asked, hardly making out Luke's outline as he squinted against the sudden light.

Luke almost laughed at Trey's state of being. His auburn hair was messy, the usually straight locks that fell around his face disheveled and full, erupting in knots on the side of his head. He moved slowly and Luke wondered if he was even really awake.

"Don't follow my example." Luke said simply, amused, turning back to check his e-mail.

Trey stared at him for a minuet, mouth unconsciously gaped open and eyes still squinting, his body appearing to disappear in the large shirt he wore over his boxers. Luke couldn't really tell if Trey was too tired to understand what Luke had said, or if he was waiting to say something, the way he was so often lately.

Either way, Trey shook his head and closed his mouth, raising a hand to rub the light out of his eyes and he turned back into the dark hallway and pulled the door shut behind him.

* * *

"Girardi, I'm kicking you out, it's not that hard of a concept."

"Why?" Joan asked stubbornly from her spot at the table, gripping Grace's coffee mug in one hand.

"Did you really expect me to let you stay here?" Grace asked. Joan watched her pulling and drying dishes from her kitchen sink before sticking them in a high cabinet, the sound of porcelain clinking together mocking the state of production Grace was trying to imitate. Grace seemed to imitate a lot lately.

"Maybe for more then one night." Joan mumbled, watching the dark liquid in her cup swirl as she made circle motions with the mug.

"Well, you can't."

"Why?"

"How old are you? Five? You already asked me that."

"But you didn't answer."

"My boyfriend is coming home. You will not be here."

Joan immediately perked up. "Really? Can I meet him?"

"No."

"Please!" Joan begged, abandoning the table and leaning over the counter that separated the kitchen from the rest of the apartment, considerably closer to Grace.

"No."

"Grace, you won't even tell me his name."

"His name is Macon." Grace said, turning towards her suddenly, seeming calm and exhausted at the same time. Joan ignored the hint of annoyance she knew she was causing.

"Okay, so what if I leave right after I meet him?"

"No."

"Grace, come on."

"Do you not understand the meaning of the word? Finish your coffee, load up on caffeine, and get out of here." Grace said, making her point by jabbing her index finger in the direction of Joan's mug on the table. Grace turned back around to turn on the faucet and rinse the remaining soap bubbles in the sink down the drain.

"Coffee's cold." Joan whimpered.

Grace sighed after she turned the faucet off and turned her head, like she was waiting to look over her shoulder at Joan. Joan almost expected Grace to fill the pause she'd created with something thoughtful, something that would explain the endless mess of secrets their relationship had turned into, by the look on her face.

But instead Grace threw up her hands and said simply, "Then take a soda."

Joan looked puzzled for a moment. Grace looked like she feared for her friend's sanity.

"What?" Grace asked quietly, privately hoping she hadn't offended Joan somehow.

"Oh." Joan said, almost laughing in sudden realization. "Nothing, just, where I was, they called it pop. I just got used to saying that."

Grace glanced over at Joan with an unintentional death glare before she turned and walked around the counter, collapsing in a lounge chair in the living room area.

"I thought you said he was coming home tomorrow night, anyway?" Joan asked from her spot at the counter.

Grace freed herself before her lie could even catch her. "Night…morning…his hours are unpredictable."

"What's he do?"

"None of your business."

"What is he, a hooker or something?" Joan scoffed.

"Why are you still in my apartment?" Grace answered, frustrated. She'd forgotten how different Joan was. Most people stopped short at the front lines of battle. Joan walked straight into enemy territory, arms swinging.

* * *

"Dude, you look like shit."

Luke glanced up at Trey bluntly, before turning back to the paper in front of him. Trey had just entered the kitchen, grabbing a bag of potato chip from the pantry. His hair was combed now and fell around his face, the longest pieces ending just below his jaw line. He was skinny, but had made up for his small frame, his t-shirt and long shorts exposing the well defined muscles in his arms and calves. He was the person everyone at the music store usually called to carry in heavy boxes.

"Inventory paper. Forgot to do it." Luke told him.

"Roger's gonna kick your ass, man."

"How are you eating that? It's eight thirty in the morning." Luke asked, glancing up from his paper to see his room mate stuffing potato chips into his mouth. Trey looked insulted and shrugged.

"You gonna make me pancakes?"

"No."

"Then potato chips for breakfast." Trey answered in a logical tone, causing Luke to let a smile break loose absently.

"So", Trey began, pulling himself up to sit on the kitchen counter behind Luke. "You haven't slept in, like, a month."

"How do you know?" Luke asked in monotone, concentrating on the words and numbers coming out of his pen.

"I sleep a lot lighter then you think." Trey answered seriously.

Luke sighed and leaned back in his chair. He turned his head towards his friend. "Sorry."

Trey simply scrunched his face up for a moment and shook his head, silently denying Luke's apology. "I fall back asleep."

Luke turned back to the paper. "Okay, good." He said lightly.

There was a long beat of silence that Luke didn't really seem to notice.

"What's up, man?" Trey asked. Trey was hardly ever this serious. It made Luke kind of nervous. He let out a half hearted laugh.

"Nothing. You know…Big house crap." Luke said, using the nickname Trey had given the music store they worked at. Once, when they both were working the same late night shift, Trey had faked a mini breakdown in the staff lounge, pounding his fist on the coffee table and referring to the store as "The Big House". Luke and the other two staff members in the room had erupted into laughter and adopted the name as a reference to their workplace. Oddly enough, after the joke died down and everyone they worked with began using the name, they were still able to use it, even when they were talking in all seriousness.

"You're not sleeping and you dropped graduate school at MIT…'Cause of The Big House?"

"No", Luke answered quickly. "That was…they're both totally different."

Luke didn't need to see Trey's brown eyes staring at him because he could practically feel them. They had met when Luke began working at Flat House Records, a local music store that was originally opened by a man Trey often referred to as "Bald Lou", though he'd never met him nor had he'd proved Lou to be bald. Trey started working there when he was thirteen, taken in by Roger, the boss, after Trey was kicked out of his house by his single father. Trey and Roger made a deal: if Trey worked off half of the rent at the store and kept his grades up, Roger would provide a roof over his head. Luke knew Roger was actually a very easy going guy, despite how hard he came down on his staff sometimes. He secretly wondered if Roger, who had been halfway through his thirties when Trey was thirteen, had really ever longed for a son of his own.

Trey showed Luke the ropes of the store when he applied there during his freshman year at MIT. They were exactly the same age, but intelligent in completely different ways. Luke knew math and science. Trey could survive by himself on a deserted island. He had an amazing grip on common sense and he had always been able to see right through Luke.

"'Kay." Trey said quietly, sliding off the counter. "Come on, buddy, I told Roger we'd open today."

* * *

Joan held her cell phone to her ear tightly, straining to hear Adam's voice over the people around her and the engine of the bus. "Yeah, I did get to see her, I stayed the night." Joan told him, continuing their conversation.

Adam balanced his kitchen phone between his ear and his shoulder as he tangled himself in the plastic phone cord, making himself a poor excuse for a breakfast.

"Really? That's cool."

"Yeah, she kicked me out though, I'm heading for a hotel now." Joan laughed. "'Cause her boyfriend was coming home or something."

"Macon?" Adam asked absently.

"You've met him?"

"A couple of times." Adam paused. "Grace just let you stay over?"

Joan furrowed her brow. Adam could practically hear it over the phone.

"Yes. Why? Did she say she was mad at me or something?"

"No."

"…Then why would you ask?"

"Oh, I just mean, cause…you know."

"No, I really don't."

"You were just gone for so long and all."

"Yeah, but, " Joan began helplessly, unsure of how she'd justify herself "That doesn't change much, we're still friends."

"I know. I just didn't think Grace would forgive you that easily."

"Adam," Joan began, slightly enraged. "Was she really that mad at me while I was gone? Because everyone's making it sound like I killed somebody or something."

Adam shifted uncomfortably before he turned around, tangling the phone cord on his legs even more. "You just left, Jane. No one really saw it coming. You didn't even talk to us really."

"I graduated high school, went to college, and then came home." Joan fumed. She knew she had been wrong, but she couldn't admit it for some reason. Not again, anyway. "It's not that big of deal. I did talk to you once in a while."

"You gave your family a phone call on birthdays and holidays. You didn't even go home during your summer breaks."

"Is everyone trying to make me feel guilty? Is that what this is? Team up on Joan?"

"No, Jane-"

"Because, I mean, I get to my parents house and they're shooting me kicked puppy looks the whole time, Luke won't even talk to me, Kevin and I haven't had a conversation beyond, like, 'are my socks clean', and all I get from you and Grace are guilt trips and questions!"

"What did you expect?" Adam asked timidly.

"I don't…" Joan let out a sigh and rested her head against the bus window. "I don't know."

"Did you think you could leave and then come back and pick up where you left off?"

"No. I guess not."

"Your parents were devastated, Joan." Adam said boldly, not even realizing the drop of her nickname. "They didn't know what they did wrong."

"They didn't do anything wrong." She whimpered, silently begging him to stop.

"Then why did you have to leave? Why did you just go without saying anything?" Adam asked, the questions he had floating in his mind for five years just rolling out, like he had no control over them.

"I…I can't explain. It's just something I needed to do."

"That's what you said when you joined cheerleading, and chess club, and marching band", Adam let go, the memories rolling off his tongue. He hardly even heard Joan tell him "I know, I know". He was too wrapped up in everything he wanted to say, like a little kid so proud that he was riding a bike for the first time he didn't even see the brick wall he was heading for. "That's what you said when you smashed my sculpture and took piano lessons!"

"I know!"

"Well, the excuse doesn't work anymore!"

Adam stood, frozen, in his kitchen, unsure of what to do with the silence he'd created.

"I'm sorry." Joan said for the hundredth time that week, quiet and defeated. "I'll call you later, Adam."

Adam sighed at the sound of the dial tone, before looking down and wondering how he'd untangle himself from his phone cord.

* * *

Luke walked back into his apartment five hours after opening the music store. Trey had stayed behind, so Luke grabbed a water bottle from the kitchen and went straight to his bedroom. He tugged at his t-shirt slightly, feeling overheated in the summer humidity. Over the years of working at a music store, Luke had slowly traded his collared shirts and button up dress clothes for t-shirts branded with band names and jeans. He still had his glasses though. He really didn't care enough about his appearance to wear contacts.

Luke sat down at his desk, the one his mother had bought him when they moved to Arcadia and Joan had carved 'NERD' into shortly after. He smiled slightly at the memory, reaching to the side of the desk and running his fingers over the letters.

He missed his memories. He missed Joan.

* * *

"I cut my hand on the sidewalk."

"What were you doing? Crawling?" Grace asked, before opening the closet door and pulling out a small crate. Joan rolled her eyes.

"I tripped."

Joan had waited a day and a half at the hotel she had checked into before calling Grace. Grace told her she could come back over, and Joan quickly took her up on the offer, not questioning as to why Macon wasn't home again.

Grace pulled a few things from the crate and wiped the blood from Joan's hand with a wash cloth. "Where'd you stay?"

"A hotel." She watched Grace pour some liquid from a brown, unmarked bottle onto a cotton ball.

"This is going to sting. Give me your hand."

Joan hesitantly reached her hand out, palm facing up. Grace quickly blotched at the cut with the cotton ball and Joan pulled away even faster, mumbling a series of "ow, ow, ow, ow, ow. That hurts!"

"Do you want your hand to turn green?" Grace asked her impatiently. Joan timidly shook her head. "Then give me your hand."

Joan bit down on her lip as her palm burned. "You really know what you're doing."

"Yeah, well," Grace began, peeling a band aid off and handing it to Joan. "I read instructions. It's not that difficult."

Joan gingerly put the band aid on her palm and sat down in a chair from the living room table. She looked Grace over and felt her eyebrows slant together in confusion.

"Aren't you warm?"

"No." Grace answered awkwardly, hugging her sweatshirt around her.

A long pause hung over them.

Both girls jumped when they heard a loud banging at the door, accompanied by a shouting, deep voice. "Grace, I left my keys in there, let me in!" Grace quickly went to the door and opened it, looking slightly uncomfortable. A man stood there, just about Grace's age, with messy dark hair and defined features, all of them seeming inferior to his piercing brown eyes.

"Hey." He said quietly, before pushing past her and walking towards the kitchen. He stopped by the table and looked at Joan curiously. "Hey…Grace's friend."

"Joan."

"Oh. Hey Joan."

He grabbed a chain of keys from the counter and tossed them in the air absently, before catching them and stuffing them into his pocket. He didn't look at Joan again, but right at Grace, following his line of sight with a quick, purposed pace. He stood in front of Grace, blocking her from Joan's view. She could see him reach out and touch Grace's arm gently. There were hushed words between them, like there was more then just Joan in the room.

"Listen, I'm sorry. Anyway, I'll be back around six." Grace nodded. He muttered a sincere "I love you" before kissing her forehead and turning around in the doorway, giving a casual wave to Joan and Grace before pulling the door shut.

"He seemed nice." Said Joan.

Grace didn't answer, just gave a half nod, feet planted by the door.

"Why was he sorry?"

"You really can't keep out of other peoples business." Grace said bluntly.

"No. I guess not. What was it?"

Grace rolled her eyes and sat down on the couch. "Nothing."

For some reason, at that second, everything came together in Joan's mind. Her heart felt heavy, and she was afraid to confirm her suspicions. She couldn't think logically about how to ask the next question she was holding under her lips because the realization was that blinding.

The possible truth of the life Grace had gotten herself into crept into Joan's mind and nothing else seemed to matter anymore.

"Why are you wearing a sweater?" Joan asked slowly, in a accusing tone that would make anyone uneasy.

Grace pretended to not understand. "What?"

"It's eighty degrees outside. Why are you wearing a sweater?" Joan's eyes didn't stray to Grace, but stared straight ahead.

"I was cold." Grace answered, a twinge of fear in her voice.

Joan's gaze snapped to Grace. "How could you be cold? It's summer!"

"Joan, what the hell? Are you seriously mad at me because I'm wearing a sweater?"

Joan shook her head slowly. "What are you hiding?"

Grace squirmed. She felt like she was sinking, dizzy, Joan's questions flying by her too quickly. "I'm not hiding anything."

"Show me your arms then."

"You've seen arms before, I don't think you need to see mine."

"Grace," Joan scoffed "How can you say you're not hiding something? You kick me out to keep me from meeting the newest person in your life and won't even show me your arms?"

"Joan," Grace said through clenched teeth, her eyes fixed on the coffee table. "Shut up."

Joan stood up and sat on the couch next to Grace, who shifted uncomfortably.

She firmly took hold of Grace's shoulder and let out a breath she didn't know she was holding when Grace cringed, trying to turn away or hide her visible expression of pain.

"How long," Joan began, hearing her breath shake as she exhaled, "has he been hitting you?"

Less then two hours later, Grace threw some clothes and necessities into a duffle bag before Joan practically dragged her onto a bus. Joan waited until Grace had fallen asleep in her hotel room to shrink to the cold bathroom floor and explain everything to Adam over the phone in a scared, weepy voice.

That night, Adam quit his job and bought a train ticket to New York City.


End file.
